Fix You, a promise by Angelina Johnson
by Reels
Summary: Angelina always kept her promises.


This has been re-written. Much longer than its former self, but I'd like to think better.

So, enjoy.

xx

The funeral for Frederick Weasley took place three days after his death.

The Wizarding World had calmed down by that point. Most celebrations had ended. Smiles were still, however, plastered to every face.

Every face that hadn't lost someone, that is.

Every face that didn't have to identify a body.

I wonder when the last time I smiled was.

I wonder when the last time the Weasley family smiled was.

I look away from the headstone now, gazing at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

They've never looked older. Grayer.

Sadder.

My eyes skip over their children.

Bill is holding his lovely wife, who is sobbing into his shoulder. He looks the strongest of everyone now. His jaw is locked, his eyes narrowed. I wonder how he can hold such an expression.

Charlie, he can't look at anyone. He can't look at the grave. His eyes skip from the sky, to his shoes. Up and down. His eyes are red. He wasn't able to stop the tears.

Percy's still in shock. He's still pale white. He's looking at the tombstone, eyes bulging. He's waiting for the name to change, I think. Waiting for the letters to twist around, forming a different name.

Waiting for Fred to come bounding over the hillside, a smile plastered on his face. He'd say something like, 'Well, I really had you all going, didn't I?' It'd be his greatest joke.

Ron's got his arms wrapped around Hermione, who's crying into his chest. He might not be aware of it, but a few tears are trailing down his cheeks.

Ginny, she's amazing me. She's not crying. She's got her jaw locked like Bill. She's glaring. She's clutching Harry's hand, knuckles white.

I look at them all. I take them in.

Except one.

I can't look at George.

George, he'll break my heart.

I close my eyes, and a few more tears fall.

Then the funeral party disbands.

xx

It's been two days since then.

I'm living with Katie and Alicia, renting out an apartment in Hogsmeade. It was our plan since Hogwarts. We'd live together. We'd join a Quidditch Team. Maybe Oliver could get us into Puddlemere United.

Then the War started. The Wizarding World went to hell. We woke up from our own dreams. Alicia's got a job at The Three Broomsticks. Katie's trying to get into the Daily Prophet. I've found myself searching for Ministry jobs. We don't think of Quidditch much anymore.

Ever since the Battle of Hogwarts, Alicia's been baking like crazy. It takes her mind off Lee and Oliver in St. Mungo's, who both entered in critical condition.

Fred six feet under.

"Katie, will you take these to Oliver and Lee? Merlin knows Hospital food isn't pleasant." She offers out two meat pies to the younger girl, who takes them. This is maybe the eighth time in the five day period it's been since they've been admitted. Katie gives her a weary smile, and Apparates.

We're left, Alicia taking four more pies. "And Angelina…If you could take these to the Weasley's?" She gives me hopeful look.

Alicia, she thinks the only way to show your condolences is to give you food.

"You realize they're probably over loaded with food right now, right?" I say, trying to get out of it.

I don't want to go there.

I can't face that family.

"Please, Angelina?" Her eyes beg.

"Only if you'll go with me."

"I can't." She looks rather guilty, actually. "I have work."

I take the pies, stacked on top of each other. "Fine."

"Thank you." She knows it'll be hard.

I know it'll be hard.

I go anyway.

xx

When I snap back to reality, I almost drop all the pies. Apparating is the worst.

I'm a few feet from the Weasley's back door, the Burrow towering above me. There's a dark cloud above the home, while the rest of the sky is clear and blue. The moods of wizard's.

I stand there like a fool, holding pies that threaten to fall.

I would rather be anywhere else.

I'd rather be faced with You-Know-Who himself.

But I'm not, and I'm a Gryffindor, and my courage propels me forward till I'm kicking the front door, unable to knock.

Bill answers, looking rather startled. I look behind him. It's an early dinner for the Weasley's. They're all there, food in front of them, looking bewildered.

And I feel like a jerk holding meat pies they don't need and kicking their all ready in-poor-condition door.

And I soon realize I've walked in on something.

George is standing, pointing his fork at Percy, who looks ashamed. Mr. Weasley's face is red with anger, while Mrs. Weasley's in tears. The others have their eyes diverted.

"Here, Angelina," Bill finally says. "Let me take those for you."

George throws his fork down on the table and gives Percy one last glare. He shrinks under it.

"Whatever." His voice is hollow. "I'm out of here." He pushes passed Bill, and then pauses for a moment before me. I'm taking up the whole door way.

"George--" I can't say more before he's squeezing passed my shoulder and the door frame. A loud snap announces his departure from the home.

Mrs. Weasley allows herself to break down now.

Percy's got his head in his hands. Charlie puts a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs it off.

"He's right, though," Percy utters, voice shaking. "It should have been me."

"Oh, Percy!" Mrs. Weasley wails, wrapping her arms around him. "Don't you dare say that!"

But no one else has anything to say.

I wonder if they all secretly agree with George's accusation.

I wonder if I do.

"I'm sorry you're seeing all this." Bill stares at his family, still holding the pies.

And I can't believe he's apologizing for his family's grief.

"No, Bill, please," I stare at him, and he looks at me, surprise evident on his face. "I shouldn't have come. I'm intruding--"

"Oh, don't say that, Angelina, dear!" And Mrs. Weasley turns herself on me now, pushing passed Bill to embrace me. My back pops as she squeezes me. "How sweet of you, to bring these to us!" She's sobbing.

"Er, well," I gasp. "Alicia made them; I'm just the delivery girl."

This only upsets her more.

"To think you're worrying yourselves over us!" She wails. "You should be out living your lives!"

And I can't help feeling more and more and more guilty.

I wrap my arms around her as best I can.

"Mrs. Weasley," I say quietly. "It's okay. We…we miss him too."

She stops short in her crying. She squeezes me tighter.

"Angelina, can I ask something of you?" Mrs. Weasley asks, pulling away, but taking my hands in hers.

Anything.

She can ask me anything.

"Will you talk to George?"

Except that.

Please.

Don't make me talk to George.

"He won't speak to us."

Her eyes water.

"He stays locked up in his room."

His and Fred's room.

"He needs a friend."

Not me.

He doesn't need me.

"You were always so close with him and Fre--"

She can't say his name. She gasps, brings her handkerchief to her nose, and blows.

"So if you could just please talk to him."

She's going to cry again.

I can't see her cry again.

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley."

Her smile melts my heart.

xx

The thing about me and George is that there was always a bit of tension between us.

Me and Fred, we hit it off usually.

But George and I, we were never as close.

"He likes you, Angie," Fred had told me one day during our fifth year.

"Does not," I had rolled my eyes. "Hardly acknowledges me."

"Yeah, because he _likes_ you."

"If he liked me, he'd talk to me."

Fred had laughed, shaking his head. "Everyone knows when a bloke likes a girl he pushes her away."

And I thought on that.

I thought on that for a year.

The Yule Ball came.

I thought, if he likes me, this'll be his chance to prove it.

"He'll ask you," Alicia had assured me.

"Oi, Angelina!" It could have been Fred or George who had yelled at me across the Common Room.

I didn't know who.

I figured George.

What kind of brother asks the girl his sibling likes to a ball?

"You know, I thought you were George," I admitted, sipping from my glass of punch Fred had got for me. The Yule Ball had finally come.

"Oh, that hurts," He put a hand to his heart.

"I mean, I thought it'd be George who'd ask me, you know?" I give him a side ways glance, and for a second something like guilt flickers across his face.

"I told him to, you know," Fred shrugged. "But, he's rather spineless compared to me. Said he wouldn't do it. The thought of getting rejected was too much for him." He dramatically put a hand on his forehead, his head falling back slightly.

And then he looked at me seriously.

"But, there you go."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Proof you'd say yes to him. He'll be ecstatic when he finds out you mixed us up."

I felt my face go hot.

The boy from Durmstrang suddenly offering is hand to me to dance was a life saver.

As I left with the foreigner, I heard Fred laughing behind me.

I cornered George sometime later that year, after Charms.

Fred moseyed off, saying something about a lovers quarrel.

"You should have asked me, you know." I look at him seriously.

"Oh, what does it matter now, Angie," George rolled his eyes. "Next ball, you're my girl. How's that?"

"You're being a bit of a jerk, you know that?"

He had nothing to say to that.

He brushed passed me.

And we never spoke of it again. We chose to ignore any feelings other than friendship between us.

I wondered if it was as hard for him if it was for me.

xx

So, with that history of George behind me, it takes me a week to grow a spine and do what Mrs. Weasley asked me to.

Katie, being in Diagon Alley a lot for the Prophet, tells me George is living above his Joke Shop.

So I go to the Leaky Cauldron. I go through the magical barrier into Diagon Alley.

The place hasn't been so lively in years.

It's just like it used to be, when I'd come to pick up school supplies. The street's swarming, the shops packed with people.

I gaze down the road, pin pointing the Joke Shop.

It's dark. No one's going in, or coming out.

I find my feet taking me there, but I wish they'd stop. They don't.

Soon enough, I find myself outside Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

I'm staring blankly at the 'CLOSED' sign. Merlin knows how long it's been up.

I ignored the sign, and try the door. Locked of course, but a simple cast of _Alohamora _changes that and I'm in.

The twinkling of a bell announces my presence.

George, he's probably aware that someone's in his shop at this point. I hear nothing move above me, though, and I figure he doesn't care.

I continue on into the shop.

The thin layer of dust that's found its way on top of everything is evident. I shake my head at the thought of George not taking care of this place. His dream.

The silence is painful. This place, it's usually buzzing with noise. Laughter. Music.

I look around at the toys. They even look glum.

This place isn't supposed to be like this.

I start climbing stairs, up and up and up. Eventually, I get to the top of the shop. I know there's a bedroom here somewhere. This top room, it's just the end for the customers.

I skip through spells in my head, spells to reveal.

"_Homenum Revelio_," And there's George, his form glowing yellow through the wall.

Now that I look at it, the door is obvious. But earlier, it looked like just a bit of wall…

That's magic, I guess.

I hesitate outside the door, even though George knows I'm right here.

I can't turn around now. Even if I could, I wouldn't.

I have to do this.

"_You were always so close with him…"_

Molly Weasley's voice rings in my head.

No, I wasn't.

I wanted to be.

He pushed me away.

"_Everyone knows when a bloke likes a girl he pushes her away."_

And suddenly I'm taking a deep breath, throwing the door open.

The room's small. Two twin beds. Nightstand, a lamp. A wardrobe. Other things I don't bother to look at.

Sitting on the bed farthest from me is George. He's got his back to me. His shoulders are slumped, head bent down.

The tension, it's so thick you could cut it with a knife.

I take another deep breath, and am surprised by the rush of tears.

George turns his head, just enough to look into my eyes. I stiffen. He breaks the look as soon as it meets.

"Angelina," He mutters, not warmly, but not bitterly either. The usual happy tone of his voice is gone, leaving it empty. It sends chills down my spine.

"G-," I choke on his name, giving away the fact that I am crying. "George…"

There is a silence. I stare into his back, trying to figure out what he's thinking.

I can't.

I let my eyes go to the bed that was, probably, Fred's. The bed is still unmade from the last time he slept in it. I wouldn't be surprised if his scent still lingers on the pillow and sheets.

My tears spill over, and I quickly wipe them away.

"I suppose you're here to see how I am," He says blandly.

"George," I breathe in, my eyes flooding with tears again. "I-I'm not going to ask you how you are, because that's obvious…" He scoffs, and I freeze up again.

"Is it really?" There's a hint of anger in his voice.

"George," I take a step towards him, and find my voice. "Your mother is worried about you! Have you been sitting up here all week?" I blurt, wiping the tears away again. No more come.

He doesn't answer.

"George, please," I move closer to him. "The shop…There's dust all over the place, George. How can you not be keeping up with the shop? It was your dream, wasn't it?!"

My tone is accusing.

"What does it matter?" The venom in his voice is obvious.

"George, do you think this is what Fr--" I cut myself off, seeing him sit straighter.

"Angelina, we're closed."

"Don't give me that, George! I'm came here for _you_!" I wail, the length of the bed the only thing between us now.

He turns around and stares at me. His eyebrows are narrowed slightly, but other than that he is expressionless.

"George, please…" I reach my hand towards him.

And then he jumps up, and makes his way towards me. He stands before me, looking down at me with a frown. My out stretched hand is the only thing between us. I began to pull it back to my side, but he takes it in his, still staring.

And for the first time, I see George Weasley cry.

A tear from each eye streams down his face.

Unlike other people when they cry, his face doesn't scrunch up or turn red. No; he's still perfectly emotionless except for the single tears. They fall from his jaw to the floor.

And then I tear up again.

And then he's embracing me.

He doesn't hug me like a lover.

He hugs my like a friend, a brother perhaps.

And then I realize something.

George Weasley is broken.

George Weasley lost half of himself the night Fred Weasley died.

George doesn't need someone to pity him, to cry for him.

He needs someone who can be strong for him while he can't.

He needs someone who can make him smile again.

He needs someone to fix him.

He squeezes me, and I feel the tears in my hair, but I will myself to stop crying. It doesn't completely work, and the escaped tears make wet spots on his shoulder.

And then he lets out a dry chuckle.

"You cry so much lately, Angelina."

I smile, despite the situation.

"The same could be said of you, you prat."

I'm trying to lighten the mood. Make him happy.

I look up to see him smiling slightly, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

I tell myself, _It's a start._

And I know.

I know it's not going to be easy.

But I promise, George Weasley.

I swear.

I will try to fix you.

xx

-Reels


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